


Words and actions

by gonattsaga



Category: Suicide kings (Movie)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonattsaga/pseuds/gonattsaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TK's father always claimed TK was slow, and maybe he was right all along. And maybe actions do speak louder than words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words and actions

After they’d seen off Mr. Bartolucci and his trigger-happy driver, Max and Avery took off in such a hurry to get to the hospital where the kidnappers had dropped off Lisa, they totally forgot about Brett who was catching his breath on one of the couches inside. T.K had patched him up and taped a makeshift splint to his leg, but he’d used up the last of the morphine on Mr. Bartolucci and all he had to give Brett was some mild pain medicine. He’d thought about giving him something stronger, but Brett would never forgive him for getting him hooked up on drugs over a broken knee cap.

He’d have to drive him to the hospital himself, but first he had to call Chickie. He’d totally stood her up last night, who knows how long she’d stood outside the dance hall and waited for him. She’d be royally pissed off by now, that’s for sure.

And then there was Ira and the chaos they’d all made of his parents’ mansion of a vacation home.

He called Chickie from the phone in the kitchen. After he hung up, he got a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned back against the sink as he sipped it, getting his thoughts straight for a minute.

Brett was a priority, of course. He’d have to drive him to a hospital first, and then come back here and help clean up. He’d deal with Chickie tomorrow. She needed a day to cool off, anyway.

He put the bottle down on the counter and went to go get Brett.

When he came into the living room though, he saw Brett had dozed off on the couch where he’d left him. He could also see that Ira was upset. Not from any glare or pout, which were usually the obvious tells, because Ira was determinedly not looking his way and he couldn‘t see his face, but from the passive-aggressive cleaning up he was whole-heartedly devoting himself to.

T.K leaned back against the wall by the door frame and just watched him for a moment. Ira glanced in his general direction through the corner of his eye, as he struggled to get one of the garbage bags open, and swore under his breath.

“Here, do you need me to help-”

“No!” Ira snapped and actually glared at him for a full second, before he went back to ignoring him.

“Ah right…”

Ira stuffed the last pieces of garbage into the second bag and started to tie it together. Even the tension in his shoulders seemed to direct anger at T.K. He scratched the back of his neck, almost laughing at the whole scene. Apparently he must have snorted, or at least exhaled too loudly, because he received another glare from Ira, before he grabbed both garbage bags and proceeded to haul them, past T.K, into the main hall.

“I can carry one-”

“I said ‘No’, I don’t need your goddamn help, T.K!” Ira yelled over his shoulder.

T.K waited until he heard the front door open and close again, he shot Brett a look to make sure he was still sleeping, then followed Ira outside, and stopped at a safe distance from him and watched as he tried to fit both bags into the garbage bin. Only twenty minutes ago, maybe half an hour, he’d stood in that same place and watched him give Bartolucci a Tupperware container with his sawed-off finger on ice.

The finger I sawed off, T.K thinks.

He refocused on Ira, present Ira, again instead.  He’d managed to stuff all the garbage into the bin, and put the lid on. He was brushing his hands together, and looked genuinely pleased with himself. T.K looks down to hide a fond smile. That’s so typically Ira, he thinks. Happy for the littlest things. Upset over them, too.

“So did you call your girlfriend?” Ira asks him, eyes still fixed to the garbage bin.

The littlest things, he repeats to himself.

“She’s not my…” he sighs. “Yeah, I called Chickie. She, ah… she’s really pissed with me right now, I promised I’d make it up to her, but I don’t think she believed me…”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“I’m taking her out for coffee to try and explain… tomorrow. I’m taking her out for coffee tomorrow.”

Ira finally looks at him then, confusion and frustration mingled together in his face, but at least he’s not outright glaring anymore.

“Okay, tomorrow, got it…” he says and his hands fly out in a spastic gesture that calls T.K and idiot.

“Well, I told her I was busy today.”

“Oh-kay…”

“I thought I’d… well, you’re gonna need some help cleaning everything up, right?”

“Oh… that’s not- actually, yeah… yeah, I really need some help…”

T.K smiles, not the shit-eating grin he feels like having on his face, but a watered-down version of it. And he nods. Ira still looks pissy, though. He’s even got his hands in his sides, like a put off super hero. And he’s pouting now.

T.K dares to take a few steps closer. All that happens is that Ira changes his weight from one foot to the other, and heaves a little sigh.

“Well, you’re gonna need to take Brett to the hospital.”

“I know”, T.K replies softly, and takes another few steps toward Ira until they’re standing really close, not close enough to feel each other’s body heat, but close enough that if either of them reached out a hand, they’d be touching.  “He’s resting right now… but I’ll take him just as soon as he wakes up and starts bitching… and then I’ll come back here and help you clean…”

He moves his hand, just the tiniest movement, fingers reaching like antennae, tips brushing Ira’s knuckles. Ira sighs again, mumbles something along the lines of, “I can’t believe you, sometimes…”

“That makes two of us”, T.K agreed. He’d helped kidnap a mafia boss and sawed off one of his fingers in the past twenty-four hours after all. “Listen, I thought you knew... I mean, I didn’t know Brett hadn’t told you. I would never have left you in the dark, not knowingly…”

Ira glances up briefly, then goes back to looking at the ground between them.

“You believe that, don’t you?” T.K presses.

He takes one more step toward him. The tips of his fingers curling in, around Ira’s, almost holding hands, not really, but almost. They were now standing closer than what was actually okay between two friends. And Ira would be completely justified to step back, or push T.K away, only he didn‘t, at least not at first. At first, he reached out his hand, his other hand, not the one almost-holding T.K‘s, that he kept where it was, almost-holding, and that in itself must have been a little victory, T.K figured. And then the other hand. It reached out too. The thumb was grazing T.K’s belly, sending a jolt through him at the brief contact, and then it was pinching the fabric of his shirt with the side of his finger.

Then, he stepped back, turned away even, hands in his sides again.

“You’re pissed at me too”, T.K stated. “Why is it that everyone I like is always pissed with me… my father, my mother, my brother, my girl friend… as in, friend who is a girl, by the way… and… and you. Why is that.”

“Good to know where I fit in”, Ira said instead of replying. “Nice long list of platonic likes there, and plenty of room for me at the very bottom, that’s nice… nice to know…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, please.”

“If I’m not, would that make you love me”, Ira mumbled.

Followed by a long and very awkward silence. They don’t use that word. They don’t talk about that stuff at all, with blunt truths or uncomfortable euphemisms, they don’t talk about them period, T.K thought. Except, now, apparently they did all of the sudden. T.K swallowed down a mouthful of curses, of deflecting jokes, of stuttering fear, of desperate kisses and pressed his nails into the palms of his hands, to have something to focus on other than his impulse to leg it out of there.

“No”, he muttered finally. “I love that you’re ridiculous sometimes, but it’s really frustrating too…”

Ira snorted. Obviously he wasn’t keen to read between the lines. Obviously he didn’t realize what it took for T.K to roll his tongue around that word. Obviously wasn’t letting T.K off that easily. 

“I know what might though”, T.K gritted out.

“What are you talking about?”

Yeah, what am I talking about, T.K thought. Whatever happened to the pledge of never using the L word, never getting too attached, never admitting to or showing your feelings. Whatever happened to the No Weakness Pledge. Whatever happened to that.

Because that’s gotten you really far in life, hasn’t it, he answered himself.

“What might make me love you… as you put it” he answered Ira, who turned around and stared, not in shock, maybe there’s a little surprise in there, but mostly there’s just suspicion.

“If you look at me, for one… and listen to me… it wouldn’t actually make me fall in love, but it would make you realize that I already have…”

The silence was deafening. It was like having that gun fired next to his ear all over again.  He swallowed. Got to make this real, got to get this right, he thought. 

“And I don’t tell shit like this to just anyone, okay, in fact I’m kinda new to this game- And I won’t be telling you around the clock either, let‘s just get that straight right now, alright. So, ah… if you can’t see it, without me spelling it out for you, then… just listen up, because I‘m only gonna say this once… I, ah…”, he sighed, put his own hands in his sides, technically he’d already said it, so he didn’t have to say it again, plus now it’d been worked up too, fuck it.

But then there was Ira and his big, brown, almost black, fucking doe eyes, all hopeful and scared and…

T.K sighed again. Changed his weight to the other foot. Fuck was Ira rubbing off on him, and not in the fun way either. He took a deep breath.

“I do… love you… you idiot.”

“…Wow, that’s romantic.”

T.K chuckled, and he hoped in vain that it didn’t sound as nervous as he felt, but it probably did because Ira’s face softened immediately, and he wasn’t even glaring at all, or pouting, anymore.

“Me too, though.” he said.

T.K nodded. He looked down, and then sort of aimlessly around, anywhere but where he really wanted to look, and really couldn’t bring himself to look anymore. He’d never done this before. What happens now, he wondered breifly. Could he kiss Ira, or would that ruin some moment or something.

“So you are gonna help me clean later, then?”

T.K looked at Ira again. He looked the same. He was still standing there, still cute as ever, and T.K felt the same about him too, and about himself, and the whole, thing, between them, whatever it was. Relationship sounds really domestic. And gay. 

Of course nothing’s changed, he told himself, they’re just words.

But they’re not supposed to be just words, he argued. 

And then he was back in Ira’s personal space. And Ira wasn’t backing away, not yet, but just in case, T.K put one arm around him, to hold him in place, and with the other he cupped his face, tilted his head back, and then they were kissing. It tasted the same. It felt the same. Just three little words. Nothing had changed.

But then Ira was pulling away.

“What’re you doing”, he whispered.

“I’d hoped that’d be obvious…”

“Ha-ha, very funny, T.K. Brett’s still here. He could wake up any second and come out here to look for us and then he’d see…”

“So, let him see.”

“What.”

And there it was. There’s the change. The littlest things, T.K reminded himself. Not words. Not with Ira. They’re different that way. T.K grew up with words, was raised by words, had learned to fear and respect words. But really, they’re just letters strung together. And Ira knew that. Ira with his monstrous vocabulary knew better than anyone that not all the words in the world were enough sometimes. Ira knew that actions speak louder. Hell, maybe everyone knew, except for T.K. His father always said he was slow.

“So what if he sees”, T.K repeated, focusing on Ira, always on Ira, and keeping the shit-eating grin off his face again he went for nonchalance, when all he really wanted to do is throw himself on the ground and scream and laugh and hug the world. That’s ridiculous, he thought.

“Are you crazy”, Ira hissed. “He’ll know.”

“Yeah”, T.K said and shrugged like what’s the big deal, but then he froze, maybe there was a big deal, not to him there wasn’t but what if Ira… “Wait, you don’t want him to know?”

“What! No! Don’t… Look… Hey, he already hates me, not to mention disrespects me, so I couldn’t care less what he knows and doesn’t know… it’s not me I’m worried about, T.K, he’s your best friend…”

“Oh. Good. Cause I’m not worried.”

“But I don’t want to be the reason for-”

“Hey fags, break it up, hetero in vicinity!”

Ira jumped back from T.K, and about half a mile into the air, at the sound. T.K suppressed a sigh and turned around to see Brett come hopping down the pathway on his good leg, big grin on his face, actually laughing at the sight of Ira squirming, despite the pain he must’ve  been in, he actually laughed.

“Relax, Ira…” he says and snickered good-naturedly. “Hey, Tinkerbell, are you gonna drive me to the hospital or what…”

He hopped up to T.K and put a heavy hand on his shoulder for support. T.K put his arm around his back to steady him further. 

“Hey, don’t try anything now”, Brett muttered, but winked.

“Fuck off, Thumper. What are you doing anyway, you should be resting.”

“Well if you weren’t so busy making out with your boyfriend, Fairydust, I’d be on my way to the morphine by now, let’s go!”

“Wait”, Ira protested. “You know? You knew? T.K, you told him?”

“Yeahsss, he told me, now can I please get a lift to the hospital, I’m fucking dying over here!”

“Calm down, you big wuss, you’re not even bleeding anymore…” T.K muttered, silently agreeing that Brett had lost way too much blood and really needed to go to the emergency. “Ira…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Brett bitched. “Really? Now? Now you’re gonna have a heart-to-heart? I’ve been fucking shot…”

“Hey, Ira, why don’t you come with us to the hospital, we can talk about this on the way…”

“I’m in enough pain already!” Brett protested again, but neither of the others paid him any attention anymore.

“No, that’s okay. We don’t have to… I mean… It‘s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Positive.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, cause you don’t seem… yourself… did I fuck up?”

Ira smiled then, and shook his head a little. Brett groaned next to him, but T.K didn’t care, and he didn’t tear his eyes off of Ira, couldn’t tear his eyes off of Ira, his mouth had suddenly gone dry, his feet and hands were tingling, and he tried and tried but couldn’t for the life of him make sense of the situation.

“Not exactly”, Ira said, eyes twinkling.

“I- I don’t, I don’t get it…”

He felt Brett’s head land on his shoulder and the gush of air from his frustrated sigh as it hit his collarbone. Ira’s smile grew, and he actually chuckled.

“Just get him to the hospital, and then get your ass back here and we’ll talk about it, okay… and clean!” he emphasized the last bit by pointing his finger, not smiling at all anymore. “You’re still helping me clean up. If my parents ever find out we were here, or what happened here tonight, I’m a dead man.”

“Yeah”, T.K murmured, still dazed, and still with no clue as to what had just happened, and no diagnosis to his own symptoms. “But you really mean it, you’re really okay…”

Ira lowered his finger, and snorted. Next to him, Brett did the same. The gush of it hit T.K in the chest.

“God, T.K”, Brett exclaimed. “You are so slow sometimes!”

“Alright already, we’re going”, T.K exclaimed back and started feeling his pockets for the car keys.

“No!” Brett yelled and straightened up. “You can be really slow on the uptake sometimes, is what I meant! Ira isn’t pissed at you for telling me about you guys, he was pissed at you for not telling me, okay, anyone would get that, but you…” he laughed and put his hand against T.K’s cheek, but T.K batted it away. “He probably wanted you to tell me, and the others, a long time ago, and I for one, couldn’t agree more… now what you gotta ask yourself is, why didn’t you… but please, do it in the car, because I think I’m about to faint…”

T.K quickly put Brett’s arm over his own shoulders and helped him over to the car. All the while Brett kept muttering about T.K being slow, until T.K manoeuvred him into the passenger’s side of the car, and he collapsed into the seat.

T.K got the seat belt on him, then shut the door. When he turned around, Ira was watching him, still smiling, only by this point it wasn’t so much amused as fondly. T.K scratched the back of his neck and smiled back.

“I should get him to the hospital… but I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Yeah… see ya…”

T.K hurried around the car to the driver’s side and opened the door. But then he paused and looked over at Ira again. He was squinting in the early morning light. For some reason the sight made T.K all warm inside. All this time, he’d been so focused on not revealing himself or getting caught staring, he never noticed what it felt like to just watch, or just be, around each other, and just breathe, the same air as the other.

“So, I’m slow, huh…” he said.

Ira’s smile grew again and he nodded, and, maybe he winked, or it could have been the sun hitting him in the eye, but he nodded and said, “Yeah. But that’s okay… it’s one of the things I love about you, even though it’s really frustrating sometimes.”

“Right…” T.K said and chuckled. “Well, I’ll see you in a bit…”

“Just go already, before he actually dies… I’m not going anywhere”, Ira said, promised, yeah, T.K thought that counted as a promise, but he wasn’t worried, that wasn’t the reason he was stalling, he actually felt like saying it, he didn’t feel like he should, or that he had to, but he just felt like saying it, but in the end, they’re just words and they didn’t mean anything by themselves.  So he held up a hand in some sort of parting gesture, before he got into the driver’s seat and pulled the car out of the driveway, and vowed to himself that he’d show Ira when he got back. Actions speak louder, he reminded himself. And he’d show him. He’d show him just how much.

  
The end.


End file.
